It wasn't until the next morning that Regulus checked out his room and realized that Harry Potter had been wrong. When he'd gone to bed, he'd felt so drained, both physically and emotionally, that he'd collapsed on top of his bed and gone straight to sleep. When he woke up, he did so feeling a little calmer and more aware of his surroundings; that was when he noticed the room. People had been in, moved things around; he remembered his life like it was yesterday and he hadn't left his room the way he found it now. Books were in different places and the photograph of him with his parents wasn't aligned with the corner of his bedside table.

Eighteen years to catch up on and the only thing he could think about was that Harry Potter had lied. Maybe he'd thought Regulus wouldn't notice. He honestly didn't know why he cared.

All he cared about was in the pocket of the robes he'd drowned in.

Oh, God...

Regulus dug his hand into his pocket, the fabric rough from not being dried properly, and pulled out the locket he always kept with him. Well, it was a lot bigger than an actual locket, about the size of a small notebook, but it was the same gold one would use to make a locket, right down to the clasp, and it only held two pictures inside. Hesitantly, Regulus opened it up and checked inside, breathing out in relief once he knew that the old charms woven into the design had still worked, even under water. The pictures inside were obviously older, but not damaged by the water. Finally, something was going right.

Closing it and holding it tightly, Regulus brought it to his lips and whispered a thank you to whoever would listen. He let it lie on the bed to shower and began looking for clean clothes; he found them still in his wardrobe, but upon opening the doors the air filled with dust and an awful musky scent that had him shutting them quickly. No way could he wear them.

That was when he saw the folded set of clean clothes on his bed; they must have been Potter's because the red headed boy was too tall and they couldn't have gone shopping. They weren't clothes he'd normally wear, or even think of buying; they were clearly Muggle and much different to his day. But he remembered that the last time he'd shopped for clothes was 1979 and in his current situation, Regulus couldn't afford to be picky. He shrugged on the slightly-too-baggy jeans and the t-shirt that was a size or two too long and stared at himself in the mirror. His black hair was wet and fell past his eyes, his eyes looked dead but he hoped that was because he wasn't feeling very good about his situation because he still felt alive (heart still beat and everything), and the clothes made him look like a lanky school boy rather than a sole Pureblood heir and the dangerous Death Eater he'd once tried to be. Even when he couldn't kill, he spoke and looked in a way that made people cower when he needed them to.

Now he just looked afraid.

What do I have to be afraid of now? I'm dead.

Not knowing how to answer his own question, Regulus snatched up the locket, tucked it safely into his pocket and made his way to the kitchen. Stepping inside, he found Kreacher by the stove and the only girl in the group at the table, her head buried in book. He guessed the other two were still sleeping; given their situation, they were clearly hiding from someone, he found it very strange that they could afford a lie in. They didn't notice him until he took a seat at the table, across the girl; the chair scraped across the floor as he pulled it out.

Kreacher happily went on about what he was making for breakfast and she merely smiled. He nodded once to the house elf and took the opportunity to study his unexpected house guest; she was a pretty girl, with deep brown eyes and hair that looked a little frizzy. She didn't dress to impress, but he could only see the jumper from his place. Not Pureblood, he guessed, or not one from his old circle; he didn't recognize any distinguishing features from the names he knew.

Kreacher put a plate down in front of him; sausages and bacon and rounds of toast. He thanked the elf, but could only look at it. He didn't feel so hungry right now. Besides, could he eat if he was dead?

"I think you can eat that," the girl said quietly, a little nervous. "The spell was supposed to give you an illusion of life, made real by your soul; that's why your heart beats and you can breathe air. I think you can eat, too. But you're the only person I've ever brought back, so I can't say for sure."

Tentatively, Regulus cut into a sausage and brought it to his mouth. It smelt delicious and it tasted even better; exactly how they were made for him as a boy. But feelings of hunger still didn't come, eating didn't satisfy him. It was simply a thing to do now.

"Who are you?" he asked before she could go back to her book.

"Hermione Granger. Muggleborn," she added, her eyes wary. She was curious as to how he'd react. He only nodded and went back to eating.

"Where did you get the spell to bring me back? Clearly not from the Ministry," he pointed out, remembering the law. "That you can't bring back the dead is one of the first things they teach, they wouldn't have told you about it."

"No, they didn't," Hermione agreed and took a deep breath. "Your cousin did. Narcissa. I heard about the spell and asked her about it. She gave me the book, but I didn't say who I want to bring back."

"Because she would never want to put me through this," he said, knew straight away that it was true. "Put me through what exactly? Why am I here and how do you know about the locket?"

Hermione looked around, unsure, her eyes going out of the kitchen. Regulus wondered if she was hoping her friends were coming, maybe it was easier to talk with them all there; her dejected frown when she saw that the hallway was still empty was further proof. He stared her down, not quite ready to plead with her for answers but hoping it showed in his eyes.

She sighed and nodded. "I chose to bring you back because you were a Death Eater," she muttered, her eyes focused on him.

"A Death -" Realization dawned on the boy, quickly followed by horror. He jumped up off his seat, his body shaking. He wasn't taking the news well. "He's still alive. Everything I did and he's still alive. I died for nothing!"

"The locket isn't the only Horcrux; we've destroyed two, we have the locket back and we're looking for the others," Hermione told him, quickly getting him up to date with what was going on. Regulus wasn't completely sure he was even listening to her; the words made it to his mind, but just didn't seem to be sinking in. "Regulus, are you okay?"

"No," he snapped, still freaking out. He did what he did to help stop the Dark Lord, now he knew he'd died in vain. He'd lost his life, his family, said goodbye to Sirius and Narcissa... in some way. "I promised Narcissa I'd get in touch when it was safe. What she must have gone through. I have to go."

"Regulus, no!" Hermione cried, following him down the hall. "Regulus, they're watching the house."

"The psychotic assholes in black capes. Yeah, I noticed them," he shouted back, still moving. "You think I don't know how to sneak out of my own house?"

He pulled open the door, just enough that no one would notice, and slipped out of it. Still hidden from view on the step, Regulus Apparated.

***

Cursing, Hermione took a deep breath and prayed she wouldn't get caught. Harry and Ron were still asleep and with no idea where to start, they probably would be for a while; she calmed herself one more time and followed him out of the door. First she cast a charm to hide herself from others; she'd practiced it often and her friends couldn't see her, but she had no idea how long it would last. Then she Apparated; she had a feeling she knew exactly where Regulus was.

God, she hoped she was wrong.

But Hermione was right; she walked along the path and found him not too far from the manor's gates. Her body shook as fear replaced her nerves, but she pushed on through and went to stand behind him.

"I thought about going in, but I didn't want to freak her out," Regulus murmured, his eyes glued to the large house. "The house is darker than I remember. I can feel it. Is he in there?"

"Yes. Lucius Malfoy was roped into joining a long time ago," Hermione told him slowly, almost hesitantly. "Not that he didn't agree with what You-Know-Who was saying, at least at the time, but he'd promised not to. Especially after you died. Your cousin didn't want that in their house, but then they threatened their son. He's named after you, you know. Draco Regulus. I hope he's nothing like you, though; he's kind of a bully, especially to Muggleborns."

"I never bullied anyone, I hated everyone equally and singling people out was just too much hassle," Regulus told her. "Though I did have a couple of friends. Jason and Hayden. I even had a girlfriend... once. She was halfblood and a Gryffindor, lived in a Muggle neighborhood. My mother would have killed me if she'd known. I didn't even tell my brother."

"No one knew?" Hermione asked.

"Narcissa." Regulus scoffed. "And James Potter, of all people." He finally turned to face her, about to say something when he stopped abruptly and watched her closely. "You're disillusioned. I can see it around you, but I see you, too."

"I can't let them see me," she said, her eyes darting to the house before going back to him. "It allows me to hide from human eyes. But you... well, you're not human. You're more than that; you're your soul in human form. This magic doesn't work on you. Regulus, we need to go," she added hastily. "We're not safe here."

It was a few more minutes, but Regulus finally nodded and started walking back down the path and away from his cousin's home. Safer in the town nearby, Hermione let out a relieved breath and walked a little more steadily.

"I can still do magic," Regulus asked, noticing her reaction and obviously finding it a good time to talk again. "I know I'm... different because I don't need a wand, but I can use it and I can Apparate and... why is that?"

"Magic is a part of us; we're born with it, we can't steal it or buy it. It's in our very souls," Hermione started.

"And as a soul, it gets to come with me," Regulus finished, knowing he was right when Hermione nodded. "You found all this out in that book of yours?"

"For the most part," Hermione confirmed. "But I figured out the rest for myself. Well, it's my opinion anyway."

Regulus nodded, but said nothing to that. It made sense and that was all that really mattered.

"Where's my brother?" he asked finally. "He's James Potter's best friend, so I know Harry Potter knows him, which means you must know him. Since we're living at home, I figured he'd be there to call you idiots. Or beat the crap out of me and boast about how right he was for me getting involved with them."

Hermione hesitated and Regulus knew right away that something was wrong. "James and Lily died when Harry was a baby, You-Know-Who got them because Peter Pettigrew - do you remember Peter? - betrayed them. And Sirius went after him, which ended in him getting framed and arrested for murder. So Harry only found out about him a few years ago."

"So Sirius is in Azkaban? Typical," Regulus scoffed. "He never did know how to control his temper."

"No, he got out," Hermione muttered, not looking him in the eye. "Bellatrix killed him. He was keeping Lucius from getting to Harry and Bellatrix snuck up behind them."

"Where -" Regulus stopped, not able to believe what he was hearing. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Not because he couldn't believe it, Bellatrix was a psycho and he knew she could go after anyone, but because he didn't want to. First to hear he was dead, then to hear that he was still alive, and his brother was dead; it was too much. But he asked anyway. "Where are they buried?"

"As far as I know, James and Lily are in a cemetery in Godric's Hallow; that's where they lived and died," Hermione answered him. "Sirius doesn't have one, his body fell through a vail in the Department of Mysteries, but Harry hopes he can put a plaque next to James' when the war is over."

"How nice of him," Regulus muttered. "But we have to win the war first."

***

Harry and Ron were rushing down the hall the moment they heard Hermione and Regulus return, ignoring the ghost of Dumbledore completely.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Ron yelled. "You had us worried."

"I was just catching Regulus up on everything that's happened," Hermione told them. They'd agreed before coming back that they'd leave out the visit to Malfoy Manor.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked, ready to focus on the bigger picture right now, but Hermione knew a talk was imminent.

"How'd it go?" Regulus repeated, moving away and into the hall. "Remarkably well; I figured out that you're screwed without me. It makes me feel so special and good inside."

"Sarcastic git, isn't he?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

"And?" Harry prompted.

"And ask me anything," Regulus said, sitting down in a chair, looking completely out of place in Harry's clothes but playing the part of the calm host well. "I want you to win this war just as much as you do. Which makes me an open fucking book."

They moved into the nearest seats and the questions started.